A Brother's Nightmare
by ludwigsgirl97
Summary: Some UsUk brother fluff. Based on the story of Icarus with a fluffy ending. Charcter Death...sort of...


Alfred sat, watching his father work. He had spent months gathering feathers from the birds that came to their island, and the boy couldn't help but be exited by the prospect of flying. The sun beat down on them, nearly unbearable in it's heat, but the boy didn't care. His golden hair was tousled, and yet, in spite of the fact that he rarely did more to it that rake his sausage-like child fingers through it, it stayed mostly in place, save one piece that insisted on sticking straight up no matter what he or his father did to change it. He wore the simple tunic that his father had made for him, seeing as how the man was great with any sort of tools. A great inventor, who had been locked away on this island only because the king was scared of his mind. His tan skin reflected the time he had spent, running around the island as he was doing now, running after any bird that was foolish enough to land in his eyesight. He had yet to catch one, but in their hurried flight, they usually dropped a few feathers, which he brought to his father, and ran off to get more.

The other blonde would simply sit and laugh, watching his son frolic through the grassy plain that was their prison and their home. Arthur was proud that his son was already showing signs of strength, even if he never listened. He was headstrong, and he thought about everything. With a smile, he couldn't help but say that the boy was a chip off the old block, and he could only hope that the boy wouldn't meet the same fate as he had. He couldn't wait to show his boy the world outside their prison, seeing as how he had never known anything else, and the clear sky promised that opportunity. The wings were made of wax and feathers, so rain would make them fall apart. So long as they kept at the right height, they would be able to fly like the birds that had so generously "donated" their feathers to them, and make it to the mainland before mid-day. He placed a final touch on the smaller pair, and called his son over.

"Now, Alfred, you have to listen to me, understand?" Arthur said, his voice firm as he fastened the wings to the boy, who was bouncing up and down with excitement.

"Of course, father." He answered, as they were finished. He turned around, and his smile turned into an ear-to-ear grin when they caught the wind a bit, and he lifted from the ground. He laughed with glee, and then looked at his father, eyes sparkling.

"You have to stay at the same altitude as me, understand? If you get to close to the sea, the water will dissolve your wings, and you'll fall into it. If you go too close to the sun, it will melt the wax, and you'll fall into the ocean and die. We can get out of here, but only if you listen to me, understand?" Arthur raised a large eyebrow, and attributed the bad feeling in his gut to the long-missed nervousness of testing a new invention.

He jumped from the cliff first, wanting to ensure that the wings actually worked. They did, and he called for the boy to follow him as the wind began to carry him closer to the place that had once been his home. Alfred joined him as enthusiastically as one could be, and laughed the entire time, as wind whipped their golden locks. Arthur couldn't help but laugh back, both of them doing a couple of rolls before finally setting on a steady course.

"You're getting a bit high, son!" Arthur called, as the boy started to flip around in the air, grinning cockily back at his father.

"Come on, Father, I'm fine!" He called back, climbing higher still in the clear blue sky.

"I said, come down, Alfred!" This was not an observation or a suggestion. It was an order, and the boy was a bit taken aback. He had never heard that commanding tone before, seeing as how he couldn't get into too much trouble on their small island.

"I said I'm fine. I can feel the sun on my back, and it is not hot enough to melt the wax!" he called back, seemingly a bit angry.

"Dammit, look at your wings! The feathers are falling out!" Alfred looked back, and his eyes widened with fear as he saw his father was right. He started loosing altitude, but through no actions of his own.

"Father, help! Please, I'm sorry. I don't want to die father, please help me!" He begged, flapping his arms as if they were enough to make up for the increasing amount of feathers he was loosing.

"Why can't you ever listen to me, boy? I can't help you. I told you not to go to close to the sun…" Arthur sobbed, and watched his son fall into the waves, crying for his father the entire time; the terror in his eyes searing into the man's eyes, as if he'd never see anything else again.

He reached the beach of the mainland, and crashed onto the sand, trying to cry out, but finding his voice lost from his mourning screams on the way here. He punched the land, as if it were the earth's fault that his son had been a stubborn fool. That he had made the wings in the first place.

"All I wanted was for Alfred to be free." He croaked, sobbing, but out of tears. He took the wings, and ripped them apart, never wanting to see the reminder of what he had done; of the boy who was dead in the middle of the ocean.

While the words he had spoken were true, he still blamed himself. He should have given Alfred his wings, or even simply lifted him, and they both could have fallen into the sea together. Even now, he wished that he could just throw himself into the waves, and let himself be taken, but he had to live for the son he had left behind. He had to do all of the wondrous things he had promised to do with his boy, if nothing else simply to humor his memory. The rest of the world may have been ignorance to Alfred's existence, but to Arthur, he was all that was in existence. And he had to live for the boy who had flown to close to the sun, where only the gods and the birds were allowed to go.

Arthur awoke with a start, tears and sweat covering his body. It had all been a dream, and yet it had seemed so real. He had felt the wind in his face and the sun on his back. He had heard Alfred's shrieks with such horrifying clarity. He ran to where the young boy slept, holding a bear that the Englishman had made him for his birthday. He was content to simply watch the rise and fall of the small chest, and look at the slightly open, smiling mouth on his round, slightly tanned face. He petted that soft, yellow hair, and the boy stirred, looking up at his caretaker with tired, but still caring eyes.

"What's wrong, England?" He asked, sitting up and still gripping his bear as though it were his only link to earth.

"Nothing. You know I love you, right?" Arthur asked, pulling the boy close so that he couldn't see the tears his strong big brother was shedding.

"Of course. And I love you too. I'll always love my big brother." Alfred said, as though he had been asked if the sky were blue.

"Just making sure." Arthur put him back to bed, placing a kiss on the top of his head, and smiling as he watched the little guy go right back to sleep. He watched him through the whole night, and didn't regret a wink of the sleep he could be getting right now. If only for the peaceful face that only a child could have, this brought the island nation more serenity than any dream.


End file.
